


Infuriating USAF Colonels

by fenellaevangela



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-25
Updated: 2006-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenellaevangela/pseuds/fenellaevangela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the <a href="http://jamie2109.livejournal.com/217361.html">AWDT</a>, prompt “Why do the socks never match?” Changed to “Why do your socks never match?”</p>
    </blockquote>





	Infuriating USAF Colonels

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [AWDT](http://jamie2109.livejournal.com/217361.html), prompt “Why do the socks never match?” Changed to “Why do your socks never match?”

Rodney woke up slowly, gradually becoming aware of the slight aches in his body, the presence of someone else in the bed. Still not awake all the way, he glanced over at the clock. It was 10:18am.

A moment passed before the time really hit him. Then suddenly consciousness flooded his brain and he jumped out of bed with the deftness of a ninja.

“John! John, get up; it’s after ten!”

The colonel’s response was garbled. He rolled over but did not get up.

Rodney flew around the room looking for his uniform. Jacket, pants . . . Shirt, shoes . . . Where were his socks? Fully clothed except for his socks, Rodney threw up the comforter and searched under the bed. No socks. 10:26am. Cursing under his breath he began going through John’s drawers.

Finding John’s sock drawer, Rodney sighed in relief and pulled out a pair of black socks. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled them on. He was about to put on his shoes when…

“Um, Rodney? Those socks don’t match.”

John was finally sitting up, and he was gesturing towards Rodney’s feet. Sure enough, only one sock was black. The other was dark blue. Growling in frustration, Rodney jumped back up and began digging through John’s sock drawer again. Pair after pair was mismatched. The minutes ticked by and Rodney was still looking.

“Why do your socks never match!?” He screamed, throwing several pairs across the room. “Aren’t you military types supposed to wear the same colour?”

“Sure,” answered John, slowly getting dressed. He pulled on his pants and walked over to the closet. “But those are my civilian clothes. I keep my uniforms in the closet.”

Sure enough the closet opened, revealing several nicely pressed uniforms hanging up. And on the ground, next to a box of magazines, was a basket. A basket full of matching socks.

As both men hurried down the corridor, each wearing a pair of solid black socks, Rodney cleared his throat.

“Um, John?”

“Yes Rodney?”

He lowered his voice. “Do you think maybe one night we could look through that magazine collection of yours?”

John smiled as they turned to go different ways. “Any time.”


End file.
